Nestling

by Lupine King

  “I see. Then I’ll have him brought over as soon as possible. Anything else?”

  “No.”

  Roland nodded. Then standing up, he bowed to the dais and then made his way to the entrance saying goodbye to the priests as he did so. The StormHawk had spoken!

  The Steelborn Arena…

  The atmosphere in Cragsveil was jubilant. The Zebre had come to a close and this one was perhaps the greatest in recent memory. The battles, the techniques, the fighters, the twists, everything was at an all-new high. The whole city was charged with it. Ordinarily, the conclusion of the tournaments should have led to the decline in the festivities. The finals were the climax of the tournament which was why they were all scheduled to happen at the same time. It should have been downhill from there but that was not the case.

  It was as if the battles had not ended. Everywhere people were still discussing them and the bazaars and festivities were still going strong. It was a bit muted though. However, that was only because most of the people were gathered at the arena. The place was packed. So packed that many simply stood around the building itself. Everyone was waiting for the champions to be crowned and everyone was waiting to confirm for themselves.

  There were a wide variety of events at the DaleGuard Zebre. Thirty of them to be exact. This year, the Steelborns took first place in a shocking twenty-six of that number. What’s more, they had won all of the truly important, popular and anticipated events. It was a record. No faction had ever won that many.

  Inside the bowl of the Arena, the fighting platform had been reduced in size. Standing on it were the judges, a few officials, the Viscount and some of the other major personalities in the region. They were there to announce the winners and hand out the prizes. The top five contestants or groups of contestants in the case of the team events stood in front of the stage and waited for their turns to be called up. That was where Valerian stood. Right beside four others in his category. In the end, Aaron had been unable to compete and so scored an automatic loss against Ethan. Also, like he had predicted, Tirenael lost to Ethan as well.

  That left Ethan at first place with three points, Valerian at second with one win and a draw, Tirenael third with one win and, of course, poor Aaron with only a draw. Being that he could not attend on account of his injuries, a representative of the Veldt clan had been sent to receive his award in his place. All she had done thus far though was glare at Valerian whenever his back was turned. With the scores being as they were and the fact that Beatrice won the runner-up battle, the Steelborns had claimed three out of the five top spots.

  All in all, Valerian felt very good about himself. He stood there alongside the other winners and could not help but feel he had earned his place. They said he couldn’t do it but he had proved them wrong. Even better, he had proved himself right. Everyone had said that he was inexperienced and he had agreed. But now, with a Zebre appearance under his belt as well as the fact that he had seized second place in the tournament no one could say that again. The best part about it was that the Zebre had opened his eyes and given him new horizons. He knew what he was capable of now and better understood his standing when compared to his peers.

  Thus as Valerian climbed the stairs of the platform amidst the cheers of his numerous fans, he felt happy and secure. He smiled as he received the scroll that held his prize and bowed not just to the assembled dignitaries but also to the crowd as well causing them to go wild. He had attained a better understanding of himself. Now, the only thing on his mind was the question, where to from here?

  The answer came in form of a small object flying towards his face. Valerian snatched it out of the air. It was a hard object wrapped in some kind of paper. Quickly, his eyes shot to where the thing came from hoping to catch a glimpse of who sent it. What he found was one of the judges looking at him with a pleased smile on his face.

  Valerian turned his eyes back to the object in his hands. He quickly unwrapped it. The wrapping had a note scrawled on the inside.

  I think this will suit that style you are working on.

  ‘Style? What style?’ Valerian questioned before looking at the object. It was a piece of jade with symbols inscribed on it. Valerian recognized it – a technique talisman. Excited, he scanned it looking for the name of the technique.

  [Illusionary Strike]

  “I can’t believe you actually gave him that technique”, Kanlu complained. “I remember begging for two weeks for you to let one of the students in my sect practice it and you still refused. Yet, you simply hand it out to people who have no idea who you are or its true worth.”

  “Relax. I only gave him a copy. That technique is one that I planned to leave to my sect remember? There’s no way I’ll hand the original copy out”, Kusko’o explained.

  “I see…” Kanlu said. His disbelief clear in his tone.

  “How complete is the copy you gave the boy then?” Attaburrun asked.

  “I don’t see how that is any of your concern”, Kusko’o defended.

  “You might as well have given the original to the boy then”, Kanlu quickly pointed out.

  Having nothing to say to defend himself, Kusko’o turned to his friend and said, “Shut up!”

  “Why?” came Attaburrun’s voice.

  “Why what?” questioned Kusko’o.

  “Why him?”

  The man didn’t even have to think before answering. “His talent for the illusionary arts are incredible. His skill and instinct for battle is the same as well. He can use that technique the way it was meant to be used. The moment I saw the way he used the mirage spell, I knew.”

  “So you merely don’t want his talent to go to waste?” Kanlu asked curiously.

  “Of course not!” his friend replied. “He is a promising junior from our own viscounty it is our duty to help him grow.”

  “You’ve changed”, Kanlu stated. Attaburrun nodded in agreement.

  “Please”, he protested. “The only thing I’ve done is grow old.”

  The three turned to see Valerian bowing deeply in the direction of their friend. Kusko’o waved his hand making sure the illusion they kept around themselves nodded in response.

  “I suppose in a way the boy can now even be called a spiritual successor of yours now that he carries one of your famous techniques”, Attaburrun pointed out.

  “You know, you’re right”, Kusko’o assented. “You know what this means. I’ve got the most promising youth in the last six centuries as my spiritual successor. What do you two have?” he ended snidely.

  “Why you….”

  Deep in the heart of Menhir Mountain

  The great Menhirion sat on his bottom facing the vault door. His once great form looked emaciated and weak. Cracks and rents marred his once perfect body. He was bored, tired and weak all at the same time. No one had made an attempt on the door in nearly two decades. Shortly before the clan completely fell he had been able to seal himself in the Steel Heart. At the time, he thought it fitting for him to die in the very same chamber he had been born in. Then a great fear gripped his heart.

  ‘What if he was the last still alive?’

  If so, then when he died the vault would automatically reset itself allowing their enemies to open and enter their most sacred abode. So he forced himself to live on. Not for himself but for his family especial those who had died that night. The first century after his self-entrapment was the hardest. He would sit in the chamber with his senses stretched completely outward, monitoring what few surviving descendants he could reach. He was able to do so due to not only being ancestor but also guardian spirit of the Menhirionn. However, it meant that was also able to sense it when a member of his family was murdered. There were times when he felt like bursting out of this vault and fight to the end but he did not.

  Rather, he remained in the vault. Hoping without hope that some of his blood made it. Eventually, there came a time when he could sense no one no matter how hard he tried. He had nearly ended it right there. However, in t
he end, he settled for rigging the vault such that every single item within it and even him was tied to the wards and protections. That meant the only way for their enemies to break open the vault with force was to first destroy everything in it. Only, they didn’t know that. He could help but imagine what their faces would look like when they opened the vault and discovered nothing but an old corpse and scraps.

  Then, one day more than four hundred years after he sealed himself in the vault he felt it. A pull on his essence. One he hadn’t in a long time but still, one he was very familiar with. One of his descendants had awoken a phantasm. That day, for the first time in over two hundred years, the son of the mountain cried.

  HIS CHILDREN WERE STILL ALIVE!

  PART III

  Guardian Spirit

  Spirit of my father,

  I come to thee for guidance.

  Spirit of my mother,

  I come to thee for advice.

  Spirits of my ancestors,

  I come seeking thy wisdom.

  The path before me is unfamiliar

  ‘Tis possessed with splits and bends.

  Many parts are dark and overgrown

  And I can scarce see where I tread.

  All I know is where it should lead

  And that is the surest route.

  I beg of thee, spirits.

  Lend me thine aid!

  Grant me sight that I might see the journey’s end.

  Guide my feet and I will walk.

  Grant me the wisdom to avoid the journeys perils

  And the strength to carry on.

  - One of several ancient hunters litanies of the plains folk

  TWENTY-TWO

  …Of Offers and the Lack Thereof

  The ceremony was drawing to a close. The champions had been hailed, the prizes given and the speeches said. The spectators had cheered themselves tired and hoarse and even the music troupes were weary. A few pompous officials were still trying to get their say in, but the Steelborn Arena was fast emptying. As with most official programmes, the majority of the people had left before the closing time, making their way over to the inns, and taverns to continue the festivities. The Zebre was done.

  Valerian was also ready to leave. His grandfather was throwing a feast to celebrate his victories, and everyone who mattered was already there. Now if his grandfather could just manage to get away.

  Valerian turned his gaze towards him. The magistrate was engaged in conversation with some other gents. The only one Valerian recognised was the head of the county’s Guild of Array Masters. They were talking quite animatedly but even with his superb hearing, Valerian could not make out what they were saying. He did not have to though. It was not a hard thing to guess. They were talking about him.

  “I wonder what kind of offers they are making grandfather?” he asked out loud.

  The question drew the attention of the others, momentarily causing them to turn away from his uncle Vorm and his recounting of his own Zebre victories. He had been working and succeeding at proving to have had more victories than Richard when they were younger. However the words trailed from his mouth when as one they all turned to look in the direction of Valerian’s gaze.

  “I know Guildmaster Serun has been trying to have you come over and register as a member of the Cragsveil branch at least. I’m not sure about the other three, Master Valerian”, Avery quickly answered.

  Valerian’s eyebrow quirked at this. “Register? He is going through all this trouble just to get me to register?”

  He could scarcely believe it. He had been expecting the old man to take him as his apprentice or something. With him being the youngest array master the kingdom had had in the current age, it stood to reason that some of the higher-ups would try to pull him into their circle. Being chased after just for an official registration was, honestly, a little underwhelming. His feelings on the matter must have been obvious because his uncle, Jonas spoke up to clarify the issue.

  “It is a more important issue than you realise Valerian. While the DaleGuard Branch may have confirmed your status as an array master no formal ties exist. Not when you and I, your tutor, are coming from a school not directly under royal oversight. If you register with them though, things will be different. You will be recognised as a member of the greater Cragsveil Branch meaning that they, the Cragsveil Branch have produced an array master who is not only the youngest array master in the last two ages but also youngest ever to become a circle master of three attributes,” Jonas explained.

  “The influence and prestige that would bring the local association is something worth begging for and Uncle Valan knows it. That’s why he has been stringing Guildmaster Serun along,” he added with a wicked grin.

  “Of course he would!” Vorm laughed. The others merely smiled.

  “Old Serun has been doing a lot more than that though,” Jonas continued. “He is representing the Royal College of Array Masters and Artificers in their negotiations to secure you as one of their students in the coming year. Whoever the others are, suffice it to say that they are probably involved in the negotiations as well.”

  Richard nodded in agreement.

  “Negotiations? For school? How and when did that happen?” Valerian asked incredulously as he spun around to face his family. He was justified in doing so. When had schools ever come to negotiate with students for admission instead of the other way around?

  “It happened while you were on your hunting trip, Valerian”, his grandmother answered. “After having stirred the people up with your debut, your grandfather had the brilliant idea of enticing all the interested parties to come forth and explain why we should ‘consider them’. Since then, the different groups have been trying to outdo each other, under the assumption that the winner would get you. Your victories in the Zebre have only made them more desperate”.

  “That’s… “ he left hanging.

  “I know dear,” his grandmother admitted. “Valan might have out done himself this time. Additionally, he is having quite a bit of fun.”

  “I can imagine,” Valerian said. He really could. The magistrate delighted in such games. Having all those important people hanging off his every word, that would tickle him into delirium.

  Still, he was doing everything for his benefit so Valerian could not complain. There were some things he wanted to know though.

  “Who else is involved in these negotiations?” he inquired.

  His grandmother smiled and pulled him closer so she could speak beside his left ear. “The man in full military dress is Major Linus T. Goebunor representing the Royal Military Colleges. Next, to the RCAA they are the top contenders. Right behind him and also the youngest of the group is a representative from the Eight Hills?

  Valerian couldn’t help but start. “Eight Hills?”

  “Yes Valerian, that Eight Hills,” his grandmother confirmed with a small laugh.

  There was no one in Bathar who did not know about the Eight Hills. It was one of the most prestigious schools for cultivators in the entire country. Full name, The Royal Eight Hills Institute, it was a school directly backed and managed by the royal family itself making it different from all the other royal associations which only carried the royal name but belonged more to the kingdom than the family itself.

  “They are offering you a spot in their Class A, array masters’ course”, his grandmother added.

  Valerian considered the offer. It was just a spot but it was a spot in the Eight Hills and for Class A no less. It was more than worth it. They knew they did not have to offer more. Valerian was already tempted to accept.

  “There was also a missive from Marrbisi Academy doing same. Unfortunately for them, they do not seem to have anyone in the surrounding area who can act as representative for them. Until they actually send someone over your grandfather has put them at the back of the list and made sure they know it”, his grandmother added.

  Valerian wanted to protest on their behalf. It was Marrbisi Academy, you know! It was th
e first ranked school in the kingdom. Just beating out Eight Hills for the top spot. He held his tongue though. He understood what his grandfather was trying to do. Besides, there were other schools. So, instead, he asked, “And the other two?”

  “The man cradling the spindly staff”, his grandmother pointed out. “He is from the Ivory Spire Mage Institute. They are offering you a place not just in the Bathar Branch but also a scholarship to their headquarters should you accept.”

  Ivory Spire! The name rang in Valerian’s head like a church bell. Eight Hills, Marrbisi, and Ivory Spire. He had the full set. The three best schools for cultivators in the kingdom all wanted him to choose them. Still, Ivory Spire. Eight Hills and Marrbisi were good but Ivory Spire was one of the premier schools of the neighbouring Theodorian Magocracy. The fact that one of the branches occupied a top three spot in The Kingdom of Bathar was more than enough proof of how good they were. All this and they were offering to sponsor further studies in their main school.

  “I am beginning to understand why the others are so desperate now”, Valerian exclaimed.

  Bathar was allied with the Theodorian Magocracy. However, whilst Bathar merely occupied the seventh spot in the rankings of the Empires subordinate nations, the Theodorian Magocracy was ranked second. Plus, as the name suggested, it was a nation where arcanists, or mages as they were better known there, filled the positions of power. It was a nation that featured heavily in the arts and dreams of many an arcanist. Their knowledge of the field was so extensive that in some areas they were superior to even the empire.

  Bathar and The Magocracy were staunch allies. Nonetheless, its officials were not going to simply sit aside and watch as one of their talents was basically picked up and taken away. That was why they were putting in so much effort. They feared that if he went to the `Magocracy he might never return and thus they were trying to entice him to stay.